all these little things
by belle parole
Summary: It's a small, stupid, silly story. An excuse. Still, Ginny leans her head again Luna's shoulder, reaping comfort from her friend. It means everything. / for ql


for the holyhead harpies, round 3, seeker, write about a character who celebrates small moments in life

1184 words by gdocs

thank you to ev, lizzie, and emma for betaing!

i wanted to make it GAY it didnt work out

* * *

The lake is beautiful. It's a marvel that it's still beautiful, after hours of fighting. Most of Hogwarts is in ruins; dust and soot cover the ground, but the lake still shines through, glittering gold as the early morning sun reflects off its blue surface. Bubbles come up, likely from the Giant Squid, and the lake brings a moment of calm in the chaos after the battle in Hogwarts.

It's by the lake that Luna finds Ginny at around eight in the morning.

"Hi," Ginny says as Luna approaches, seeing Luna's shadow in front of her. She spares a glance up, before looking back down at the grass. She doesn't want to talk much further and Luna doesn't ask her to. She sits down and rests her head on Ginny's shoulder. It's quiet.

"I saw your brother," Luna says.

With a pang, Ginny knows what she means. Usually, when people tell Ginny "your brother," she always has to ask "which one." Now, though, there's only one that matters. There's only one that didn't make it.

Ginny makes a noncommittal sound, not trusting herself to keep it together if she opens her mouth.

"It's okay," Luna whispers after, and Ginny has an urge to push her away.

"It's not," Ginny croaks, blinking fast. She gasps, and despite fighting against them with the little will she has left, tears flow from her eyes. "It's not," she repeats. She doesn't know how to make her voice say more than that, she doesn't know how to make Luna understand that it's _not_ okay, because her brother is gone. So many are just _gone_, and maybe they won the battle, but the cost was _too_ much.

It's not okay.

Instead of pushing Luna away, Ginny turns her neck, silently crying on Luna's hair. Luna lets her.

"You're here," Luna points out, after a few moments pass. "I'm here. The lake is beautiful, and it'll be okay."

Ginny lets out a sob as Luna takes her hand and rubs her thumb. She's trying to let herself believe Luna's words, trying to let herself give in to the fantasy that she'll get past this.

"Focus on the small things," Luna says, when Ginny doesn't say anything. "Everything will be okay."

* * *

Months later, Ginny is starting to believe that. It's hard, trying to throw herself back into a normal life after fighting a war. It makes it worse when she decides that she wants to go to a Muggle university. She could get a degree, find a Muggle job, live as normal of a life as she can. The only drawback is that no Muggles know what she's been through. They don't know about the war that happened while they couldn't see it.

She moves in with Luna, which helps. At the end of the day, after talking with people who can't understand what she's gone through, Ginny gets to go home to someone who's been through the same thing.

Tonight, it's pouring when she gets home from class. She unlocks the door to her apartment and steps in, drenched from head to toe.

"Hello," Luna calls airily, painting something in their dining area.

"Hi," Ginny mutters. Her sneakers make a horrible squelching sound when she takes them off, and she cringes. They're going to be a pain to clean once they dry.

She stalks off to change, and once she's in dry clothes, she joins Luna. Now she can see the scene she's painting — something that looks straight from a fairytale, a landscape in the moonlight with hills, and flowers, and all types of small animals. Luna's currently painting a small figure; a girl with red hair, pointing her finger to the sky.

Ginny takes in Luna painting, the way her hand holds the brush delicately, the way she carefully details in every stroke. When a piece of Luna's blond hair falls in front of her face, Ginny gingerly, tucks it behind her ear.

Ginny could stay in this moment forever, she thinks.

A clap of thunder bursts her bubble, though, and she jumps. All she can think of is a spell being shot at her, of walls crashing down, of blood and dust littering the floor.

She doesn't even realize she can't breathe until Luna's holding her wrist and urging, "Breathe, _breathe_."

Ginny takes a moment to try and steady her breath. She's shaking all over, and she feels _terrified._ It's a fear she hasn't felt since she was actually fighting in the battle. Luna wipes a tear trace from Ginny's cheek, and Ginny leans into her hand a little bit.

"Here," Luna says, stepping away from Ginny. She returns to her painting and dips a small brush into a pale blue paint. From the finger of the girl in her painting, she draws a jagged line upwards. Lightning.

"That's you," Luna whispers, pointing to the girl. "You control it. Don't let it control you."

Ginny has to wipe another tear from her face. She nods at Luna, her chest feeling a little tight, but she forces herself to take another deep breath.

It's a small moment, just between her and her best friend, but Ginny tries to give into it.

Focus on the small things, Luna had said. Ginny does.

* * *

A few weeks later, Ginny has the day off from school. She spends the day reading on their old but comfy couch, digging her toes into Luna's hip, trying to catch her eye. Luna humors her, throwing her a smile every now and then.

When afternoon turns into evening, Luna stands up, pats Ginny's leg, and says, "I'm going to make dinner. Do you want potato stew?"

Ginny doesn't know why, but it makes her freeze. She's brought back to her childhood, of her mother cooking and her brothers running around making trouble while her mother would try to peel potatoes for their dinner. Well, not all of her brothers. Two in particular.

"I —" Ginny says, her chest feeling tight.

"Gin?" Luna asks lightly, sitting back down and resting her palm on Ginny's knee. The panic must be evident on Ginny's face, judging by Luna's soft tone.

"Fred liked stealing my mother's potatoes while she cooked," Ginny gets out. The words hurt to say, but she's glad it's nowhere near the pain they would've caused a few weeks ago.

Luna nods, moving closer to Ginny, so their legs are touching.

"My father used to say that when something went missing, it was ghosts trying to send a message to us," Luna says, knocking their knees together. "I think he just needed an excuse for when his glasses went missing. My mother would take them off of his face, even when he was reading something with them. I don't think we even have potatoes in the house."

Ginny lets out a little laugh, feeling a little breathless.

"Did they go missing?" she asks Luna, looking at her big blue eyes.

"Must be a message."

It's a small, stupid, silly story. An excuse.

Still, Ginny leans her head again Luna's shoulder, reaping comfort from her friend.

It means everything.


End file.
